


Thin Walls

by orphan_account



Category: The Creatures (Youtube RPF)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, bottom!James
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan and James are apartment neighbours and the walls are very thin. I think you can infer what's gonna happen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thin Walls

At first it felt like a childish accident -- you were on your bed doing a little night time reading (Dan sent you some weird hentai? Batman hentai? Bruce Wayne _is_ getting handcuffed in a very inappropriate position. At least it wasn’t a video link) when you hear a noise coming from the other side of the wall you were leaning on. Not just any noise. A _sexy_ noise. Someone was doing sexy things on the other side of the wall.

 

“ _Fuck, yes, that’s the spot._ ” Oh man. _Oh man._

 

“Yeah, right -- _there_ , mm, perfect.” You lean in closer and press your ear against the wall and -- _oh no_. You have a boner. It’s in your boxers. You’re suddenly very interested in what’s going on the other side. You press your ear closer and catch the muffled schlicking noises -- _and then reel back and frantically grasp at nothing, reddening like a mad man_. What in the world _what in the world_. You’re eavesdropping on your neighbour. You’re _eavesdropping_. On your _neigh_. _bour_. You don’t even _know him_. You’re pretty sure you heard him yelling at his dog one time? That’s really all you know?

 

And now your hand is slinking down your abdomen, casually touching your erection with light feathery touches to incense your growing need and woah woah woah woah WOAH. WOAH. THIS IS NOT A THING THAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING AND okay now you’re propping yourself against the wall silently as to not arouse suspicion and you’re pulling your cock out and getting the lotion and checking that you have tissues on hand and SERIOUSLY. SERIOUSLY. YOU’RE SICK. YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY _SICK_. STEP AWAY FROM THE PENIS. PUT THE PENIS _DOWN_.

 

“ _Ahn -- fuck! Fuck... fuck -- !_ ” ‘Kay never mind. You have no self control. You’re flushed from head to chest and your erection is nagging you. You squirt a bit of Nivea onto your hand. You hope he hears you and goes through the same thought process you had. That’ll teach him for doing _sexy things in his own home. The nerve of some people, I swear._

 

You grab your boner with willing fingers and begin building a steady rhythm with your hands, exhaling slowly as you go. Your ear remains vigilant at its post, listening with shameless intent for your neighbour’s next move, and your hips jerk and your breath hitches when you treat yourself by putting some attention to your head, rubbing at it like a stain and moaning rather gratuitously in response.

 

The other side is silent.

 

Deciding not to take that as discouragement, you continue to pump yourself, even going as far to squirt a bit more lotion onto your fingers and adjust yourself until your bent legs are spread invitingly. You rub the lotion around and groan when your strokes get a little bit more hurried in pace, running the fingers down onto your entrance and caressing it as to prepare yourself before penetrating yourself gradually with one finger and wiggling it around with rapt attention. When you come across your prostate you jolt just a little bit and then yelp when you hook on it, finding your impending orgasm coming closer and closer.

 

“Hey.” You’re too busy building up to orgasm to even parse what makes a streamline into your ear and out the other. It wasn’t until the next sentence that you accidentally moan in response at the thought and insert another finger, wondering why you’re masturbating in the first place. Oh yeah, it’s because the sounds your neighbour make are _really hot_ and apparently hot enough to drag a boner out of you. Weren’t you reading Batman hentai before? Is this what your night has dissolved into? Reading about Batman in bondage to masturbating to your neighbour in order to spite him? You guess you shouldn’t drift off like this, you’re so _close_.

 

“Are you listening to me?” his tone is more or less agitated, and all you’re doing is masturbating. “NEIGHBOUR IN APARTMENT THREE OH FUCKING FOUR. DID YOU HEAR A SINGLE THING I JUST SAID?”

 

You finally answer. “Uhm. No?” You hear him take off from the wall and spit out an oh my god and something is slammed against a table. In possible vexation, you might add. There are three fingers up your butt now.

 

“I’m asking if you’re jerking off to me jerking off!” he hisses out, his usage of words implying he haven’t finished yet. Which means -- _oh man, this entire thing is MUTUAL. GOODNESS._

 

“Y-yeah, I am!” you make the decision to bite the bullet and tread deeper into the craphole you’ve ended up in. You sit up and tease your frenulum a little bit to keep your buzz going, but the possibility of coming seems fruitless. “In my defense, these walls are thin and I really didn’t want to spend my night reading Batman hen-entay -- _hentai_ , or, whatever!”

 

“So you heard me and got a fucking boner.” he flatly muses, feeling his head fall against the wall as yours did. Man, hearing what you’re doing out loud is gosh darn _embarrassing_. You decide to let the man's words that aren't his moans fall on deaf ears, continuing to stroke yourself with fervency.

 

"M-hnn... Ah!" you groan just out of curiosity, relubing up and slicking yourself back to peak slip, stroking at a more intense pace than usual to force the sounds out of you.

 

He’s quiet.

 

"Mm, fuck..." After a couple of moments, he finally speaks up -- and the first thing it is _is a moan_. The muffled thunk of head should be now parallel to yours as this weird sense of mutual benefit enthralls you in the way your impending orgasm should feel like. When you rub your frenulum again, it’s like a jolt of lightning on the spine and through your entire body -- and the moan that followed shortly afterwards was loud and choked up and it takes you a moment to realize that it was both of you in sync that had moaned and _you just have to moan again_ and arch your back in response.

 

The next following moments felt more fast paced and exciting -- your breathing picks up and when you rub your taint you nearly crumble and whimper. You also find out your neighbour is _huge_ on dirty talk; his mouth running off on spiels of what he would do with your body if he just came over right now and you spit heatedly for him to _find out himself_ and _man_ , you can feel him lift up from their bed and hear every single sound of him going through the necessary prep of flusteredly throwing on his clothes for whatever reason and marching out to your door and _you hear it--_

 

“OPEN UP FUCKER AND LET’S DO IT.” There he is. Your erection was waning a bit.

 

You bolt to the door and whip it open and suddenly feel the embrace of a certain somebody feeling you up with every intention of playing out every dirty fantasy he confided to you, the brush of beard on your chest and hands gripping fervently at anything they can get. His actions invite you to do the same to him, murmuring appreciatively at his soft body and especially nice butt.

 

He has the courtesy to slam the door behind the tangled limbs you’ve both become, and you drag him to the best of your abilities to the bedroom where you throw yourself at him when you reach the sheets. You lick and nip at his body and feel the shivers that enthrall your body while you relish and nearly lick your chops at his taste.

 

When he arches his back and moans straight into your ear, your hips jerk when the sound -- finally unobstructed, crystal clear -- pierce your eardrums and _you swear you’re growling at him, promising to screw him into your mattress_. The sound he makes in response is _gratuitous and absolutely grateful you’re giving him exactly what he wanted today. Man, that’s something._

 

“D-do you have lube?” you grunt as you watch him shrug off his sloppily thrown on clothes, and he throws you a bottle of lube and a condom, to which you pick up in interest, checking the size of condom in particular.

 

“Size XL?” you gawk slightly at his assumption, deciding to push it aside in favor of your own sized condoms. He gives you a face. At your penis. He gives a face towards your penis.

  
“Guess I was overcompensating.”

 

“Size doesn’t matter!”

 

“Well I think size matters _a lot_ , so I hope you can fucking prove me wrong or my visit here is an _absolute waste of my fucking time_.” He of course says that with every intention of making you feel bad, so in retaliation, you throw him down until he’s under you and rub your crotch against his taint, choking a breath out of him as he fashions a cheeky grin with his crumbling expression. The gesture speaks volumes about his lack of regret.

 

“Looks like I’ve already proved you wrong.” you say, satisfied grin eking from the corners of your lips. He forcefully presses his lips against you and wraps his legs around you.

 

“I didn’t say anything,” he brushes it off while you lube up your fingers and adjust them until you could reach his entrance and rub at it intently, he exhales. “Just sounds like you have an issue with jumping the gun.” He laughs and it’s a booming sound that resounds in your bones, and you curl and twist your fingers. His moans are more breathy but the feeling of it shaking your frame feels all too familiar.

 

\--

 

After fingering him for a short while, soaking in layers upon layers of vocalizations that are laced with thick whispers in heady heat, you remove your fingers and roll the condom over your erection, stroking a bit with a little bit more lube for extra measure and placing it at his entrance. You share a look with him you’re not sure how to describe -- all you know is that he grips your forearm and says with a strained voice to go, and you go.

 

The moment your cock pushes past the first section he’s already knitting his brows in abject pleasure; his mouth falls open slightly as the pressure in his abdomen increased in a slow burn (something you know all too familiar with) (you live alone) that elicits the most erotic of dulcet tones from their mouth. Your skin is covered in a thin sheen as you moan at the sheer tightness of it all -- his walls enveloping your cock in a crushing grip that has you unable to do much but bend over and shallowly thrust until he accustoms to the presence.

 

When he motions for you to start moving -- when his left hand grips at the back of your neck with the grace of a drunkard and pulls you into his clutches -- you begin to pull out agonizingly slow, all while making out with him profusely. Slowly at first, just to warm up, but as you increased your pace, his moans became increasingly more desperate and wanton, his right hand grasping at the sheets like a lifeline.

 

You begin progressing into rougher territory. You ram into him like you’re venting out your frustrations, you’re making him move with your thrusts, like he’s bouncing on your cock at gunpoint. As horrendous as the comparison is -- your hips are going a mile a minute, and he’s enjoying every second of it -- judging by his long trains of moans gone awry and harsh panting.

 

\--

 

“F-fuck, I’m so close!” he gasps out and throws his head sideways. You notice his hips begin to stutter and lose rhythm, his cock leaking and ready to burst, and with much gusto curl your hand around it and stroke him to his orgasm.

 

Not even three strokes in you can feel the walls choking your erection absolutely suffocate it -- his hips jerking about and his mouth open and releasing a sound that _reverberates in you_ , creates a _subtle rumble in you_ , makes you choke out your own _pathetic_ and _needy_ noises until you come as well, your entire composition crumbling with the bolt of pleasure putting your body in a chokehold.

 

With the intensity of your orgasm, you fall over your neighbour a tired and satisfied heap of weak bones and quivering flesh and almost coalesce into his form, feeling his chest lift you up slightly with his heavy breath. You note that the come in between your sweaty bodies doesn’t feel the greatest when it rubs against you all slimy like, and lift up dejectedly to clean up and remove the condom and do all that post coitus clean up crap.

 

“My name’s James,” your neighbour provides proper introduction whilst you were in the midst of handing him a damp towel to wipe the come off. You go over to your bin and dispose of your used condom and respond back. Eagerly, since you’ve been going this entire time referring to him as “he” or “your neighbour”.

 

“I’m Jordan, Jordan Mathewson,” you make him scooch over and he happily makes the space. “So I guess you _are_ staying over the night.”

 

“I live next door, doesn’t matter.” James (you’re actually _really_ glad he introduced himself) says, throwing on his boxers and making himself comfy on your bed. “I think Ein can spend a night without me.”

 

“Ein?”

 

“Yeah, my dog. She’s a corgi, a corgi who absolutely doesn’t listen to her owner _at fucking all_.”

 

 _Well that explains a lot of things._ But aside from that, you fall into casual conversation with James, trading barbs (to the best of your ability) and listening to the outrageously worded stories of the most mundane events of James’ life, mentally wandering off despite the spontaneous energy of the conversation urging for a quick laugh or positive response.

 

He doesn’t seem to notice you’re not paying much mind to his stories anymore either -- James gets into it, spins it in convoluted patterns. You could give him the most paltry of circumstances and he could make a tapestry out of it -- a labor of love that stems from perhaps a boring life, or from simply someone with a flair for the dramatic. James in the ten minutes you’ve spent not listening to him is still an eye catching firework in the bleak night skies before the Fourth of July, an explosion you can’t help but look and listen to and stare in all its grandeur, and regardless of its appearance it signified the beginning of something no less than a spectacle.

 

But like a firework, he settles, and when he finishes up the tales with a flourish of his hands you’re on your back ready to sleep, urging him to do the same. To which he does, and he shifts closer to you and makes a comfortable noise when he shifts close enough to have the heat emitting from your body mingle with his. The two of you spend almost an hour in blissful silence.

 

“This isn’t going to be a one time thing, right?” you mumble and truthfully, you expect the words to die in the air unanswered, like good rhetoric should. But James answers, with a certainty that’s wrapped with promise, and laced almost delicately with grogginess. A gift.

 

“Fucking bet there’s gonna be a next time, fucking thin walls man...”

 

**Author's Note:**

> thing for mlgjames.tumblr that i planned writing a very long time ago... :')


End file.
